The dinning table didn't stay full for long.
We ate with the high-speed efficiency of a family that had a deadline with a hundred heads of salted cabbage.
"Eun-sook-ah told me your absolute favorite is Maneu padak (garlic-crusted fried chicken)," Grandma Lee Chang-gu beamed, sliding a massive, mountain-like platter of golden, garlic-scented chicken directly in front of my rice bowl. "I had it brought straight from the town market to treat our Ukrainian grandson. I hope you'll enjoy it, son!"
"Wow, Halmeoni... daebak," I breathed, my mouth watering instantly. It was incredible—crunchy, sweet, and heavy on the garlic. I inhaled four massive pieces in a blur of motion, fueling up for the impending doom Ha-neul had promised.
The moment the last bone was cleared, the sanctuary of the living room vanished.
We were mobilized into the backyard courtyard, where giant, blue plastic wading pools had been repurposed into mixing troughs. I was forcibly suited up in the official Kimjang uniform: a bright pink plastic rubber apron that reached my ankles and matching elbow-length pink rubber gloves. I looked like a giant, neon-citrus warrior ready for a domestic warzone.
The labor was brutal.
Under the hawk-like, terrifying glare of Grandma Lee and three neighborhood grandmothers who had materialized out of nowhere, I had to bend over the troughs, hauling forty-pound crates of heavily salted, wet cabbages, draining them, and passing them down the line.
Then came the mixing.
Ha-neul was tasked with rubbing the dark red, intensely pungent chili paste onto every single individual cabbage leaf with clinical precision. Sweat dripped down my nose, my lower back screaming from the constant bending, but I locked my jaw.
'Don't give up, Motuzenko,' I commanded myself, lifting another heavy crate. 'You are representing Ukraine right now. Do not let these Jeju grandmothers think Eastern Europe is weak!'
I pushed through the soreness, lifting faster, laughing and nodding along to the grandmothers' rapid-fire Jeju dialect even when I didn't understand a single syllable. It worked brilliantly. By the time the final jar was sealed, the old ladies were patting my shoulders, calling me a "strong, precious worker" and a "perfect son."
I had held the line.
When we finally staggered back into the main house, the sun was already setting over the emerald sea, casting long, dark orange shadows across the wooden floors.
I collapsed onto the floor cushion in my room, completely and utterly exhausted. Between sleeping only three hours after the club and the intense, back-breaking labor of the cabbage harvest, my bones felt like liquid concrete. My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out to see 10 missed messages and one call from Lee Sora. My brain was too deep-fried to calculate the romantic variables of a future idol right now, so I ignored the notification and hit "Call" on Skype to my mother back in Smila.
"Alex! Sonechko!" her warm voice instantly cut through my fatigue.
"Hi, Mom," I sighed, leaning my head against the wall. I launched into a high-speed, tired monologue about the day—the flight, the garlic chicken, and how I had survived the great pink-glove kimchi massacre of 2015.
I let out a quiet chuckle, looking toward the door. "And Mom, the funniest thing... my foster sister, Ha-neul? I've officially nicknamed her Tokki (bunny) in my head. When we were out in the yard for Kimjang, she kept sneaking away behind the storage jars because she really, really likes to secretly eat raw carrots. She just stands there nibbling them behind her glasses. Cute, isn't it?"
My mom burst into a loud, bubbly laugh over the static line. "Ah, the poor girl must be working hard too! Be nice to your sister, Alex—"
The sliding door flew open with a bang. Grandfather Kim stood there, wearing a thick windbreaker, a giant flashlight in his hand. "San-ah! Hurry up and pack your jacket! The family is already moving. We're showing you a spectacular hidden cliff spot, and the picnic is already completely ready!"
At the mere mention of the word picnic, my stomach let out a thunderous, treasonous rumble. My mouth watered automatically.
"I have to go, Mom! They're feeding me again!" I yelled into the receiver.
"Go eat, Sonechko! Tell them more about your home! Have a nice day!"
I hung up, stripped off my sweat-soaked hoodie, and took a shower—accomplishing the entire process in a record-breaking, high-speed military transition. I threw on my clean jeans, a fresh sweater, and grabbed my jacket, sprinting out into the main hall.
The house was almost entirely empty; the adults had already carried the blankets down to the rental SUV. The only person left in the foyer was Ha-neul. She was leaning against the shoe rack, her Samsung phone of the same model as me... to be precise mine of the same model as hers, pressed to her ear.
"...yeah. He's right here," she was saying softly. She paused, listening, and then her usual icy, vice-president expression completely melted. Her dark eyes brightened up with a sudden, brilliant warmth, and a barely visible, upbeat smile caught the corners of her lips. "Jun-seo says hi," she muttered, lowering the phone as she saw me.
I stopped, a mischievous, brotherly smirk instantly igniting across my face.
I poked her arm playfully.
"Whoa. What just happened? Did you suddenly win the national lottery? Look at that face."
Ha-neul immediately rolled her eyes, her classic scowl snapping back into place, though her ears remained a faint pink.
"Don't be stupid, Mountain. Jun-seo is actually traveling down to Jeju tomorrow. His maternal grandmother lives on one of the smaller adjacent islands, so he's coming to visit her for the holidays. He'll be taking the return ferry back to the mainland with us on Sunday."
She adjusted her glasses, her tone trying to sound casual but failing the rhythm.
"But... he said since he'll be in the area tomorrow afternoon, we could probably hang out a little. He said he wants to show you around Jeju City since you're the clueless foreigner."
"Ah," I nodded slowly, picking up two heavy picnic baskets from the floor to help her carry the load down to the car.
We walked down the volcanic stone pathway in the cool evening air.
I looked at the side of her face.
'I wish I was not only as clever as Ha-neul but also as beautiful.'
I stopped at the edge of the grass, the wind from the sea whipping my messy hair.
I turned my head, staring deadpan into her eyes.
"Hey, Ha-neul-ah," I asked, my deep voice dropping to a serious, unguarded register. "By any chance... do you like Jun-seo perhaps?"